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44. NAPOLEON'S RETURN.

[These lines commemorate the removal of the remains of Napoleon Bonaparte from the Island of St. Helena to France in 1840, in a ship of war commanded by the Prince de Joinville, a son of Louis Philippe, then king of France.]

A

BARK has left the sea-girt isle,

A prince is at the helm;

She bears the exile emperor

Back to his ancient realm.

No joyous shout bursts from her crew,
As o'er the waves they dance,
But silently, through foam and spray,
Seek they the shores of France.

2. A soldier comes! Haste, comrades, haste!
To greet him on the strand;
'Tis long since by his side ye fought
For glory's chosen land.

A leader comes! Let loud huzzas

Burst from the extended line,
And glancing arms and helmets raised
In martial splendor shine.

3. A conqueror comes! Fly, Austrian, fly!
Before his awful frown;

Kneel, Lombard, kneel! That pallid brow
Has worn the iron crown!

The eagles wave the trumpet sounds!
Amid the cannon's roar,

Ye victors of a hundred fields,

Surround your chief once more!

4. A monarch comes! From royal arms
Remove the envious rust;

A monarch comes! the triple crown
Is freed from gathering dust.

Guard him not to the halls of State,
His diadem is riven:

But bear him where yon hallowed spire
Is pointing up to heaven;

And with the requiem's plaintive swell,
With dirge and solemn prayer,
Enter the marble halls of death,

And throne your monarch there!

5. Napoleon comes! Go speak that word At midnight's awful hour,

In Champ de Mars; will it not prove
A spell of fearful power?

Will not a shadowy host arise
From field and mountain ridge,
From Waterloo, from Austerlitz,
From Lodi's fatal bridge,
And wheel in airy échelon,

From pass, and height, and plain,
To form, upon that ancient ground,
Their scattered ranks again?

6. Go speak it in the Louvre's halls, 'Mid priceless works of art; Will not each life-like figure from The glowing canvas start? Go to Versailles, where heroes frown, And monarchs live in stone; Across those chiselled lips will not

A startling murmur run?

No, no, the marble still may be

Cold, cold and silent-so is he. The pencil's living hues may bloom, But his have faded in the tomb, And warriors in their narrow homes Sleep, reckless that their leader comes.

7. Napoleon comes! but Rhine's pure flood
Rolls on without a tinge of blood;
The Pyramids still frown in gloom
And grandeur, o'er an empty tomb;
And sweetly now the moonbeam smiles
Upon the fair Venetian isles.

8. Napoleon comes! but Moscow's spires
Have ceased to glow with hostile fires;
No spirit, in a whisper deep,

Proclaims it where the Cæsars sleep,
No sigh from column, tower, or dome-
A man that once was feared at Rome-
For life and power have passed away,
And he is here, a king of clay.

9. He will not wake at war's alarms,
-Its music or its moans;

He will not wake when Europe hears
The crash of crumbling thrones-
And institutions gray with age

Are numbered with forgotten things,
And privilege and "right divine"

Rest with the people, not their kings.

10. Now raise the imperial monument,
Fame's tribute to the brave;
The warrior's place of pilgrimage
Shall be Napoleon's grave.
France, envying long his island tomb
Amid the lonely deep,

Has gained at last the treasured dust;

Sleep! mighty mortal, sleep!

MISS WALLACE.

45. THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL.

HE muffled drum rolled on the air,

THE

Warriors with stately step were there;
On every arm was the black crape bound,
Every carbine was turned to the ground;
Solemn the sound of their measured tread,
As silent and slow they followed the dead.
The riderless horse was led in the rear,
There were white plumes-waving over the bier;
Helmet and sword were laid on the pall,
For it was a soldier's funeral.

2. That soldier had stood on the battle-plain,
Where every step was over the slain;

But the brand and the ball had passed him by,
And he came to his native land to die!
'Twas hard to come to that native land,
And not clasp one familiar hand!

'Twas hard to be numbered amid the dead,
Or ere he could hear his welcome said!
But 'twas something to see its cliffs once more,
And to lay his bones on his own loved shore;
To think that the friends of his youth might weep
O'er the green grass turf of the soldier's sleep.

8. The bugles ceased their wailing sound,
As the coffin was lowered into the ground;

A volley was fired, a blessing said,

One moment's praise-and they left the dead!
I saw a poor and an agéd man,

His step was feeble, and his lip was wan;

He knelt him down on the new-raised mound,
His face was bowed on the cold, damp ground;
He raised his head, his tears were done-

The FATHER had prayed o'er his only son. LANDOX

46. PRESS ON.

RESS on surmount the rocky steeps,

PRESS

Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch : He fails alone who feebly creeps,

He wins who dares the hero's march. Be thou a hero! let thy might

Tramp on eternal snows its way,
And, through the ebon walls of night,
Hew down a passage unto day.

2. Press on if once and twice thy feet
Slip back and stumble, harder try;
From him who never dreads to meet
Danger and death, they're sure to fly.
To coward ranks the bullet speeds,
While on their breasts who never quail,
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds,
Bright courage, like a coat of mail

3. Press on if Fortune play thee false
To-day, to-morrow she'll be true;
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts,
Taking old gifts and granting new.
The wisdom of the present hour

Makes up for follies past and gone :
To weakness strength succeeds, and power
From frailty springs-Press on press on!

4. Therefore, press on! and reach the goal,
And gain the prize, and wear the crown:
Faint not for to the steadfast soul

Come wealth, and honor, and renown.

To thine own self be true, and keep

Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil; Press on and thou shalt surely reap

A heavenly harvest for thy toil!

PARK BENJAMIN.

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